The Mind of a Grayson
by AvisFundati
Summary: Dick Grayson hasn't been doing so hot lately. He's been distracted on patrol, withdrawn as a cop, and floundering in his usually booming social life. All of this has drawn the attention of his family, who are wondering what's up. Please continue reading description in the first chapter/prologue.
1. Prologue

Description:

Dick Grayson hasn't been doing so hot lately. He's been distracted on patrol, withdrawn as a cop, and floundering in his usually booming social life. All of this has drawn the attention of his family, who are wondering what's up.

One day the acrobat collapses, and doesn't show any signs of waking up. Ever.

Join Batman, Red Hood, Red Robin, and Robin, (Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne respectively), as they are sent into the mind of Nightwing. Someone who is a son, a brother, and a pain-in-the-neck ray of sunshine.

I mean seriously, does everything he think about have to be expressed in song?

(OOC because it doesn't work if they act like the people they are. Ogres have layers, so do bats).

First few chapters are a build up to the actual story. Skip to chapter 4 if you want to get straight into the music/mind melding chapter.

The POVs will mainly cycle through Damian, Tim, and Jason. Bruce and Dick will appear, but more rarely.

 **Prologue: Richard**

 _The loud_ bang! _of a gavel breaks through the quiet murmurs in the court room. A man wearing a grey suit stands before a court, his slicked back black hair and somber clothes contrasting with his twinkling blue eyes. "You can't do this to us you know. We have rules. Laws against your actions." Someone from the audience shouts._

 _"I know." The man responds crisply._ _"Then why-?" The same person tries to interject before he's cut off._

 _"Because sometimes rules have to be broken to be fixed. To do the right thing for him, isn't that what we all want?" His question causes some of the people in the sitting in the crowd to protest, a minority starts to nod and shake their heads in agreement._

 _"That's true but what you're doing is madness. You're endangering us all!"_

 _"If I must do this in order to bring him true peace, then it is what I have to do. I have no choice." Several guards try to rush to the podium, but they're too late. Before anyone can do anything the man in the grey suit is gone, the only thing remaining of him, a mirthful cackle._

 _Everyone present could hear the bang of two large doors slamming shut in the distance._

 _"Vaida has betrayed us."_

 **A/N "vaida," is Rom for gypsy chief, according to the Internet. If anyone is more certified in Romani, please contact me to help with future chapters.**


	2. Chapter 1: Damian

**Chapter 1: Damian**

 **A/N Please read.**

 **All credits go to the original creators. Please forgive any grammar mistakes, or notify me for future reference. Also please understand that I am not well versed in the timeline surrounding the Bat Family. If something is off, or completely impossible, just remember that this an AU where many different story lines are mashed together. This is pretty much a "Dick Grayson is awesome" story.**

It was raining in the gloomy streets of Gotham. The clouds blotting out the already dim moon light, and accentuating the shadows that lurked seemingly everywhere. The streetlights flickered ominously, and the few that did work bathed the sidewalk in a sick greenish tint.

The foreboding atmosphere was unfortunately commonplace in a crime-ridden city such as Gotham, and did not deter any of the normal street thugs that took refuge in the city from making an appearance. Though it also didn't stop a pair of masked vigilantes, who were both perched high above the streets. Away from the devious intent that they would inevitably stop.

Crouched upon the high ledge of a building beneath the pounding raindrops; eyes locking onto every person who dared move during the perilous hour, was a boy.

The boy was dressed in a black and yellow hooded cloak, (though the hood was down), and he wore a suit made of Kevlar, a green domino mask, and large green gloves fitted with compartments. Wrapped around his torso like a vest was a thick red chest plate, an "R" proudly displayed, like a family emblem over his heart. His legs were muscly, and fit, easily seen in the skin-tight black material.

The boy's hair was flattened by the cold rain, but some of it still remained pointed, like a mop of deadly spikes. Lowering his binoculars the boy scoffed.

Across from the two, down in an alleyway littered with muddled garbage, there were about seven goons. Each held a makeshift weapon in their hands, (probably meaning they weren't professionals). Three of the group were herding along a couple into the alley, the woman looking fearful, and the man giving off the aura of a fed up snob.

The man was pushed into a wall, and it appeared as though the goons were taunting him.

The boy was about to call it out, but he was interrupted before he could.

"I see them. Robin, I will cut them off, you handle the civilians; once they are safe start sending those guys my way. Absolutely no killing." The voice speaking was raspy, and low.

Due to the rain, and the plunking of the many droplets on the roof, it took Robin several seconds to understand his orders. But before he could even respond Robin was left behind by his mentor.

The elder already disappearing into the shadows. Hissing a few complaints under his breath Robin complied, reaching to his belt and fishing out a grappling hook.

A quiet fwip!- was heard as the boy, appearing to be no older than twelve years old, shot off across the street. His cape flapped behind him in the wind.

"Tch," he growled. Damn Batman.

\--line break--

It turns out that those thugs did, in fact know how to use their rough toys. If the excruciating pain coming from his kneecap was anything to go by. Seriously though, did Gotham have an open air market for crowbars or what? Way too common, not to mention that his two years away from assassin life had dulled his tolerance to pain.

As they finally arrived back at home to the Cave, Robin, now Damian Wayne, peeled off his mask. The pain seemed to have lessened and he could walk in a straight line with only a slight limp.

Batman, or rather Bruce Wayne, was sat at a large computer within the cave. His fingers flew across the keys as if he had grown up typing like a maniac.

"Master Bruce, how was the night life? As colorful as usual I presume." Alfred Pennyworth stood at the entrance of the cave. A medical bag was slung over one arm as it was crossed in front of his chest. Even though he didn't look it, the butler of the Wayne mansion was amused.

"Master Damian." The old man nodded his head towards Bruce's son, then the sickbay. Eyes firmly locked on the boy's left leg. For a second he thought about refusing, but Damian merely huffed and stalked towards one of the sterile tables. He had learned at some point early on that fighting Alfred was useless. And if anything, Damian wasn't stupid enough to waste time on a battle he knew he wouldn't win.

Only after all of that was done, (including the cat band aids, curtesy of Nightwing), was Damian sent off to bed. He had school in the morning after all. And the injury wasn't too serious.

Damian begrudgingly said goodnight and marched up and out of the cave.

"Master Bruce, what troubles you?"

Bruce Wayne was glaring at the monitor, like the Bat Computer had personally wronged him.

"Another message from Barbara. Dick hasn't been getting better, they might end up having to send him to the Watchtower if his condition doesn't improve."

"That's truly awful sir," Alfred's eyebrows became scrunched together with sadness, he hated hearing such terrible things about the boy he had helped to raise.

Bruce used his hand to wipe his face in an exhausted motion, and stood up. He had decided that in the morning he would visit Dick.

"Alfred. I'm worried about him," the butler looked at him expectantly, knowing that the billionaire would continue.

"It's not like the kid to stay down for so long. Even if Barbra did bench him. Heck, he didn't even listen to me back when I was his mentor. What I'm trying to say is, I'm scared that he's going to do something that's going to get him killed." Alfred nodded, silently showing his agreement.

"I know, Master Bruce. I half expect him to be out on the streets as we speak, doing what he thinks is right. What you taught him to do."

With that in mind, Bruce smirked grimly, and stood up. Thanking his father-figure he took his leave, walking up the stone stairs of the Bat cave and to the manor. Alfred cleaned up, and also left, ready to finally get some sleep.

Little did they know, that at a little past two in the morning, an urgent message would be sent to the Bat Computer.

Richard Grayson, or rather Nightwing, had been found collapsed in his Blüdhaven apartment.

Surrounded in a pool of his own blood.


	3. Chapter 2: Jason

**Chapter 2: Jason**

It was actually Jason Todd, who found Dick Grayson sprawled out across the apartment's living room floor.

Clutching an empty bottle of pills and passed out, covered in a copper smelling red liquid, Jason was fearing the worse.

Frantically, Jason had searched for a pulse from the twenty three year old man. When he finally felt the meek but steady thumping underneath his fingertips he felt a weight he didn't know was there lift.

Not five minutes later he was on his phone, desperately calling anyone and everyone he could think of.

A lot of the people weren't picking up, not surprising since midnight was about an hour ago and a lot of the population still had work in the morning. (Selfish assholes).

Hell. Jason wouldn't have even been there at this time of night if he hadn't forgotten his leather jacket a couple Sundays ago during poker night.

When everyone left Dick's apartment they were all piss drunk, so at that moment it may have slipped his mind.

Jason snuck a quick glance at the figure he had once identified with as a brother. (He still did, even if he was too proud to admit it). Things had gotten better recently, but he still resented the man. Bruce, whether he knew it or not, always played favorites.

Though staring at Dick now, who was clad limply in only his black and blue Nightwing costume, (the one from the Young Justice series, mask included), Jason could not help but feel just a bit underwhelmed.

This was the unattainable shinning standard he had idolized? That's just sad.

Just as another number timed out, he snapped back to calling. No way was Golden boy dying. Not unless it was Jason himself who got to kill him.

Finally, after what felt like hours, someone picked up.

"Hello? This is Watchtower. Who is this?" The very confused (and tired) voice of one Oliver Queen blared to life from the phone's shitty speaker.

All in one breath, Jason responded.

"It's Red Hood. I need the clinic prepared immediately and I need to be ported up. Now."

There was a moment of silence, then a rough, teasing chuckle.

"Aw, did the big bad bad-boy get hurt? Cause last time I checked you weren't really the type to ask for help. I mean I'm flattered but-"

"God dammit GA! It's not for me, it's for fucking Nightwing! Something's wrong with him and I don't know how much longer he's going to last like this!" A tinge of desperation had crept its way into Jason Todd's snarky voice.

No noise was heard from the phone's speaker and for a moment Red Hood was terrified Green Arrow had hung up on him. Then there was a slight clicking of computer keys. Jason huffed a sigh in relief.

"Okay. I have some of the Techs setting up the med bay, you'll have to get Nightwing up to the roof though. I can't Zeta you two from your current location, the kid made sure of that." Though the comment seemed like a joke, there wasn't the usual tint of mirth in the blond man's voice.

"Do you know what's wrong with him?" He sounded hesitant, and it was only that tone that kept Jason from hanging up immediately.

"No GA. No clue."

\--line break--

Standing in front of a large rectangular panel of glass, one that kept the room he stood in separated from the white medical ward, Jason felt out of place.

It wasn't even the lack of his helmet, (he never really fit in with the hero community anyways. Why would he care)? But just being there, as his brother was carefully placed onto a stuffy cot. He felt like he was seeing something private. Nightwing just looked so vulnerable.

His brother's rich skin was a bit paler than it normally was. The top half of his Hero suit peeled off so the bandages wrapped around his midriff were clearly visible. A brace was placed around one of Nightwing's pointer fingers. It being linked up to a monitoring machine. The machine beeping in time with his brother's thumping heart.

Red Hood, honest to god couldn't help but feel a bit guilty. He knew that his brother hadn't been his usual self lately. The crime rates in Bludhaven had risen again for about a week, before Jason had taken matters into his own hands.

Sure he knew all of the meaningless facts that Oracle had spewed to him over the phone, but never once had it ever occurred to him how bad things had actually gotten. She kept asking him to check in on Nightwing, to make sure that he didn't try to go on patrol.

And Jason had tried to. -At first.-

Then he had just simply forgotten. Look where Jason's lack of good will had gotten them. Literally the hospital.

It didn't help his already screaming conscience that Dick was sporting a few scrapes and cuts that hadn't been there when he had first found him. Oh god. Jason cringed just thinking about it.

\--flashback--

 _Thankfully his brother lived on the top floor of the four story apartment. Making the stairs to the roof only a ways down the mostly rubble tile hallway. (Very helpful for late night excursions as a certain masked vigilante)._

 _The only problem was very much passed out twenty three year old man named Richard, splattered in his own blood, laying on his back on the thinly carpeted floor._

 _What if someone comes looking for him? Simple. Lock the door you idiot, Jason's subconscious unhelpfully supplied._

 _Grunting, Jason had hefted the older male onto his back, he grabbed the empty pill bottle from the floor, and stuffed it into an empty gun holster on his belt to further investigate later. The window he had entered through already closed._

 _He still hadn't found his leather jacket, but he scowled as he realized he wouldn't really have the time to locate it that night._

 _After the first few steps towards the door Red Hood cursed as he figured out the source of the bleeding._

 _Where his brother's chest touched his back, he could feel the warm liquid seep into his suit. The black Kevlar of his Red Hood vest-armor becoming sticky and gross as the blood soaked into the woven article of clothing._

 _At the rate Nightwing was losing blood, it was no wonder he was passed out._

 _Hurriedly Jason had sprinted to the door to the roof. Locked. Fuck. Not thinking of the consequences he violently used one leg to kick the door knob. As it went flying, too late did he realize his mistake._

 _With the added weight on his back Jason quickly lost balance, and fell backwards. Then was his second mistake. As his reflexes took over, he let go of Nightwing's limp body, in favor of catching himself in a_

 _backbend. (He looked like an arch)._

 _Red Hood cringed as he heard a thump behind him, presumably the smaller body of his brother hitting broken ceramic tiles._

 _A loud groan met his ears and he felt a bit relieved, at least Dick was still alive._

 _With the door open, Jason had rushed his brother to the roof for the zeta transport. All the while trying to ignore the nasty bump forming at the back of Nightwing's head._

\--end flashback--

He didn't tell the medics who were rushing around his brother where those extra scrapes had come from, but he knew that they weren't prioritizing those at the moment.

No, what they were focusing on was the fact that the blood gushing out of Richard's body wasn't stopping.

Another nurse hooked up a blood bag to a needle, along with two clear bags. (One probably sedatives, the other most likely water). Then she gently gorged the needle into the crook of his brother's elbow.

Jason felt a twinge of satisfaction as the limp form on the bed winced unconsciously in his sleep. Good one nurse.

Dick Grayson was trying to bleed out, and they'd be damned if anyone on the Watchtower let that happen.

Jason walked over to a chair in the clinic's wait room after a nurse closed the viewing window.

The chair looked relatively comfy, so he promptly collapsed. Sure there was a nagging voice in his head telling him that it was only going to be hours before Batman stormed in. And he would have listened to that voice and left too. -Had it not been 2:20 in the morning.

Sleep was top priority. Can't shoot people when you yourself are also dead on your feet.

Jason drifted off into a hopefully dreamless rest. A bleeding bird in the room across from him as still as a lifeless corpse, and a forgotten pill bottle tucked away in one of his gun's holsters.


	4. Chapter 3: Tim

Chapter 3: Tim

It wasn't Tim's fault that his homework still wasn't complete a week in from its assignment. Juggling college life, his social life, (or lack thereof), and his nightly debuts as a certain Red Robin, it was hard finding the time to write out each and every essay. Especially for literature analysis class, that Mrs. Short was a real shark. Sure he knew that taking online classes would've been easier, and much less time consuming, but he wanted the actual college experience. Deadlines came along with that.

Now though, as he was scampering to finish his ten page report on the nuclear civil wars in Kaznia, a quick glance at his laptop's digital clock made him groan, (in relief actually).

It was 3:00 A.M. Four hours until he had to turn the paper in, he'd make it with time to spare.

\--line break--

It was around 5:10 when Tim finally finished up his project, fully prepared to get another hour of much needed sleep before turning in the paper.

Just as he was getting up from his slouched position in the cushiony swivel chair, an obnoxious ding came to life from his glowing computer's screen. A message from Alfred.

Quickly and without hesitation Tim opened the messaging application. He shifted back into the warm seat and began reading. His eyes glazing over as he took in each and every word.

"..Oh Dick" he whispered, his concern growing as he processed the diagnosis.

Taking the time, Tim stood and rushed to his closet, pulling out an old worn duffle bag from the top shelf. Removing the fake bottom he speedily changed into the black and red Kevlar bodysuit. Pulling up the smooth black cowl over his black hair and covering his face, then snapping the x-shaped utility belt (cough, cough sash) around his upper body, he opened his dorm's window and leapt out into the night.

His laptop still open on his desk.

(Note, his bow staff is collapsible and stored inside of a pocket on the outside of his right leg. Yes I am making this up. Is it true? Absolutely no idea).

\--line break--

The closest Zeta Transporter to the Watchtower was nearly halfway across town.

On the way there Red Robin (Tim), had stopped an armed heist, thwarted two muggings, and had caught someone attempting to steal a picnic basket. That guy was also for some reason armed with a small silenced pistol, and a stuffed bear with a bowtie he referred to as Boo Boo.

Tim had make quick work of all of them, and had left them to the proper authorities. (Why a family was picnicking so early in the morning, -in Gotham no less!- was entirely beyond the teenager. Tourists probably). Finally with nothing more to distract him from the more pressing matters at hand, Red Robin arrived at the telephone booth shaped Z.B.T. (Zeta-Beam Transporter).

Recognized. B20, Red Robin.

A monotonous voice announced as soon as he stepped inside of the box like room. In a bright flash he was whisked away from the musty back alley. The call receiver and tinted windows melting into first a platinum white, and then becoming more solid. Metallic.

He took a moment to gain his bearings. Sure as a member of Young Justice Tim had used the Zeta-Beams to travel around the globe, almost like second nature, but after becoming Red Robin and settling down in Gotham he had little to no need for the flashy exits. Thus the tingling feeling in his fingers and toes.

Red Robin was in the Watchtower's Observation Deck, a ring of reinforced windows that allowed him to gaze forlornly out into the cosmos before him. The Zeta-Transporter to his back was still cooling down as he took stock of himself. Making sure nothing was lost during his momentary travel.

With his mind finally a bit more caught up, Tim made his way to the medical lab. Most of the rooms were occupied, getting hurt was a guaranteed part of the hero gig.

Speeding up his pace a little more he approached the rooms with the more, difficult, patients.

The ER was mostly empty. The only few rooms that had doors closed clearly in use. But somehow none of that mattered. That other heroes could be dying just beyond those doors, just out of sight. Not really. Because his brother was at the end of that hallway. Because Dick Grayson was the only one who mattered at that moment.

Tim Drake knew from experience that he was probably one of the more mature members of the Bat Family. Not cold hearted, no. Just a bit distanced.

But even his amazing analytical mind was having a great deal of trouble dealing with this particular mission. His brother was dying? It was too hard to process. Richard "Dick" Grayson had been through many things over the years, usually making through it with only a few scratches and broken bones and a quick quip to boot. But that's why this fatality was so damn fitting.

Nothing was more likely to kill his brother, than the man himself.

\--line break--

"What do you mean you don't know how to fix him?!" The doctor before him, a man probably in his nineties or so gave him a hopeless shrug. Tim had been berating him for a little under ten minutes, for the man was one of the most incompetent human beings he had ever met.

The only things he could tell him were snippets of actual medical conditions, all of which a three year old could deduce. He means seriously. "He lost a lot of blood," and "It's an unusual case," weren't even close to the answers he was looking for. (At that point he didn't know what he was hoping for, but hey. Sleep deprivation did that to a guy).

He was counting on something being there. Something for him to fix, absolutely anything was better than nothing. God where was Leslie? That woman could solve this entire debacle. --

It was about then when something really broke through to him in the conversation. It hadn't really occurred to him in his mind until he saw the billowing golden cape enter the room.

A man stood by the door to Nightwing's room, a room which even Tim could not gain access to until Batman or another founding league member showed up.

Doctor Fate had arrived.

Tim Drake took a step back, ignoring the other doctor, things had just gotten a whole lot more serious. Batman had a strict policy on magic. Suddenly Red Robin didn't really want to see his older brother, he wanted a quiet place to brood. Without another word from the hero he marched off down the closest hallway. He had wanted anything right? Well that anything could stay the fuck away from him for a few god damn minutes. Magic meant that he was useless, techie or not he was no divine warlock.

(He was so frickin tired, he didn't even take the time to say anything to the doctor he was now shunning). The man behind him was no doubt confused as hell anyways. What was that guy's name? Stan something?

\--short line break--

It had only been about an hour, before he was called back to that same waiting room.

But instead of Doctor Fate or even Batman greeting him there. He instead found himself facing two of his not so great brothers. Jason Todd, who still referred to him as Replacement, and the devil spawn, Damian Wayne.

Surprisingly when he entered the room it was the later who acknowledged his presence. "Drake." Damian nodded, his eyes narrowed but not particularly hostile or blood hungry. Tim blatantly ignored him in favor of turning his attention to his second eldest brother.

He also had a moment of panic that subtly forced him to make sure that there was no one outside of the bat family in the room to hear the dead name giveaway.

Jason usually took a jab at him any time they crossed paths, but he guessed that this situation was having dire effects on him as well.

His older brother was traveling light from the looks of it, he wasn't wearing his trademark helmet but instead a red domino mask. This allowed his black mangy hair with a streak of white to show proudly upon his head. His brother had also most likely gotten a haircut. Not that it was noticeable, but Alfred had made a very sly comment on how long it was last time Jason had visited the manor. Everyone knew you couldn't disappoint Alfred.

Jason was somehow missing his brown leather jacket. He wore only his thick standard armor of reinforced black fabric which was more of a t-shirt than anything, with a pair of torn jeans. Some of the shirt was stained with blood.

Wrapped around his waist in a way that was surely uncomfortable sitting down, was his belt of gun holsters. He carried only two small handguns, and from what he could see this shiny pair was modified in some way for his brother. (He couldn't identify the model). There was also something in another of Jason's empty holsters but his brother's position on the chair kept him from telling what it was.

Curiosity made Tim's eyes shift a little to have a look at his younger brother as well. It looked as though Damian had given up on getting a proper response out of Red Robin and had gone back to staring daggers at anyone who entered the room. He was rubbing awkwardly at his left leg.

Of course Tim also calculated that the door adjacent to the hallway was only about four feet from Nightwing's room. His brother was way too easy to read. "Where's Batman?" Tim asks, because surely if Damian is here, then so is the big bad bat. "He's in there, with Fate and Zatana." Jason snarks, the rest of his face doesn't move.

"Zatana's here too?" Tim asks in surprise. It wasn't a secret that the magician and their older brother had a history. "What does it matter, Drake?" "Nothing, it's just.." Before he can answer the door leading to Dick's room bursts open. The heavy metal door dents outwards dramatically before falling and landing with a heavy clang onto the barren waiting room floor.

There's no smoke, but the situation has all of the symptoms of an explosion. No one has to say anything, all of the Bat Brothers are standing at attention, weapons poised to attack. What no one expects though, is when Zatana runs from the room, tears streaming down her face.

"Zatana? What happened?" Tim questions. He tries to follow her, but he's pulled back by Damian. "Priorities Drake," is all that he gets before the newest Robin charges into the now doorless room. Jason is right behind him, albeit more cautious. Tim takes a second to compose himself, before he follows his brothers. Just what is going on here?

Tim only makes it a few steps inside the room before he stops. The sight before him is appalling. Right away he notices Bruce, or rather Batman sitting in a chair next to one of the three medical cots in the room. And on that singular cot is Dick Grayson, except he's glowing a deep golden yellow. Doctor Fate is no where to be seen, but the way Batman pierces the three brothers with his gaze, clearly demanding answers, directs Tim's attention from the Lord of Order.

"Calm down." The Dark Knight's voice demands compliance. Tim is ready to just willingly nod his head, however Red Hood apparently has other ideas. "What the hell was that?" He asks, his voice accusing. Damian doesn't look like he's listening, and is instead staring down at the unconscious Nightwing.

"Doctor Fate cast an enchantment, he's currently probing Nightwing's mind to see if he can detect any outside magical interference." Their father's response is calm and to the point. "He can do that?-" and "isn't that J'onn's job?" Are said simultaneously, by the two Reds in the room.

"Yes he can, but only with great concentration and focus. Martian Manhunter is currently off world, but we've asked him to return as soon as he can. Unfortunately it will take him at least twenty-four hours to reach the Watchtower." It's at this time that Bruce notices the silence of his most youthful partner.

Batman's glare lessens somewhat at the obvious concern in the young assassin. "Robin. Don't worry, we're dedicating all of the necessary resources to fix this problem as soon as possible."

"But what is the problem, father?" Damian asks, confusion tinging his words.

"I think I'd be the best one to explain this. Don't ya think?" Tim and Jason both spin around to face towards the new voice. Standing next to a cart covered in Petri dishes is Dr. Raymond Palmer. The superhero known as Atom flicks some pink gunk off of his shoulder and then stands to attention before the Bat Family.


End file.
